


if we could just be who we want to be, at least love will come easily

by gapkittiwat



Category: Mewgulf, brightwin - Fandom, offgun
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Name Changes, Rare Pairings, Romance, Teen Angst, set in the philippines because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27945779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gapkittiwat/pseuds/gapkittiwat
Summary: Two decades ago, Off Gabriel Padilla and Gun Oliver Bernardo were the 80s most sought-after teen heartthrobs. With series, movies, and endorsements they shoot left and right, who would have thought they'd fall for each other when everyone expects them to fall for their respective loveteams?Two decades ago, what they thought was enough suddenly becomes too much.Two decades ago, a scandal broke that sets them apart.Two decades later, they met again—inside the principal's office where their sons got involved in a fist fight.Two decades later... what could possibly happen?
Relationships: Bright Vachirawit Chivaaree/Win Metawin Opas-iamkajorn, Earth Katsamonnat Namwirote/Tay Tawan Vihokratana, Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong, New Thitipoom Techaapaikhun/Namtan Tipnaree Weerawatnodom, New Thitipoom Techaapaikhun/Tay Tawan Vihokratana, Nine Noppakao Dechaphatthanakun/Earth Katsamonnat Namwirote, Off Jumpol Adulkittiporn/Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. how fate plays its cards

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: my grammar is ultra flawed. this is my first time writing a full narrative fanfic, please bear with me, aha.  
> this is based on a prompt i have on twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/nnyaaaaw/status/1332843959186407424?s=19

**_ 2019 _ **

THE ROOM is fairly quiet except for how the brand-new air-conditioning unit hums steadily while tension fills up the air from the four college boys who all sport bruises on their face with their clothes totally in disarray. For that room and the lady sitting behind a large black and white desk, this kind of atmosphere is not really new.

But somehow…

Somehow, this scene feels a lot heavier than what the lady usually deals with.

"I expected better from you, Mr. Padilla. For someone who is aiming to run for Latin Honors, you're surely setting up a good record by punching your schoolmate, huh? Is there anything that you want to say, at least?"

_ I'm sure the things I want to say will guarantee suspension so, I better not. I still want that Latin Honor when I finish college. _

Win just purses his lips (while trying his very best not to glare) as the Discipline Head scolds him. With all his bravado, he surely does not intend to stay for a much longer time inside that freaking cold office with people he abhors to his core. Ah, just the realization that he’s with the same room as them makes his blood boil with rage.

“I apologize in my brother’s behalf, Miss—"

“Gulf!” he shouts in aghast.

“Win, please—just... stop it,” Gulf, obviously in distress, whisper-shouts to him while looking straight into his eyes. Win’s chest heaves in frustration as his older brother almost begs him.

No, he doesn’t want to stop. 

Gulf seems to sense his intention of fighting him back when his hands reach for his.

“Guppie is tired, Winnie, hmm?” his brother says that only the two of them can hear.

_ Goddammit, Gulf Mikael! _

Win’s anger doubles as Gulf encloses his hands over his shaky fists, both trying to ignore the hot tears on the corner of their eyes.

The Discpline Head sighs in defeat, head secretly shaking as she watches the siblings comfort one another. Her head is filled with questions she doesn’t dare to ask inside the four corners of her office. She slowly averts her eyes from the two and settle on the other student on the left side of the room.

Her heart aches for these two as it always does.

“Mr. Bernardo.”

Two pairs of eyes greet her call—one is full of guilt; the other is full with carefully contained pain.

“Anything that either of you wants to say?” she asks carefully. “Does any of you wants to explain with me what happened on the cafeteria?”

Bright just looks down on his feet while slowly shaking his head. Now, how is he supposed to answer that? He only has the vaguest idea on why Win Dillon Padilla, the freshman from Communication Arts, decided to suddenly punch him.

_ “Bright Cyrus Bernardo, you’re so full of yourself! This is for hurting my brother over and over again!” _

He doesn’t even know what it means. In what way does he hurt Gulf?

It confuses him. After all, Gulf is a good friend from their faculty. How can he possibly hurt a good friend?

On the other hand, Mew is just as clueless as his younger brother. He was just supposed to fetch Bright in their building when he saw a commotion in the cafeteria (which he truthfully ignored because how the hell should he know that it was his brother engaging in a fist fight?). If he hadn’t heard Gigie’s voice amidst the crowd back there, he would not have known that Bright is the one involved in the ‘fight’.

So, when the Discpline Head’s gaze turns to him, Mew lets out a timid grin despite the pain he feels on his right cheek and subtly shrugs his shoulder.

_ Damn, this Win kid can surely throw a punch. _

“Let’s just wait for your fathers to arrive, then,” she says, giving up on probing.

Upon hearing what the lady said, Mew and Bright obviously deflates—both nervous and disappointed with themselves that their father has to be invited in this kind of atmosphere. 

While on the other side, Gulf lets out a sigh and massages his neck, his puffy eyes feeling heavy and the weight of what just happened drills onto his skull.

_ This is another headache that I don’t need right now,  _ he thinks as his hold on Win’s hand becomes tighter when he feels his brother tensed at the mention of their father.

“Auntie…” Gulf attempts to start, using his godchild card to the Discipline Head, their godmother since birth, Namtan. “Can Dad not get involved in this?”

Namtan sighs. She suddenly wants to smack these kids on their head but she clasps her hands and glares at them one by one.

“You should have thought of that before you created a scene in the cafeteria during an accreditor’s visitation day, Gulf,” she tries to calmly force out. “If this were only up to me, I would have just given all of you a smack on your bottoms because, my God, children! What were you all thinking?”

“I’m sorry, Auntie…” Mew, being the eldest of the four, sincerely apologizes. “I should have not let it happen.”

“You weren’t there when it started, Larkin,” Gulf says softly, calling Mew by his second name which makes the older slightly blush.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Nam, I should have not punched Win back,” Bright says, wringing his hands as he keeps on staring at his dirty spike shoes, his emotions bubbling in his chest but he tries to push them down.

“Trying to appear to be the good one now?” Win mocks him, disgust written all over his face. “Always the pathetic one, Bright, I see. Such a shame my brother is in love with you.”

“Win!”

“Win Dillon, you watch your mouth!”

The first shocked gasp comes from Namtan. The second angry cry comes from Gulf himself who throws an anxious and apologetic glance on Mew and Bright’s side.

Win just sneers and shakes off Gulf hand from him to cross his arms over his chest.

He doesn’t feel guilty.

Not at all.

Mew and Bright deflates more from what they have heard.

Namtan is about to say something when she hears hesitant knocks on her office door.

She inhales deeply, calming herself. “Come in!”

The door slowly opens, revealing an uncertain Love who flashes them a small smile. “Hi, Mom. I think I just saw Uncle Off’s car from here?”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Namtan smiles sweetly for her daughter, not missing the worried glance she’s throwing for her best friend, Win. “Can you bring your Uncle Off here for me?”

“Uhm, sure, Mom. I’ll be back then?”

Namtan nods at her daughter.

When Love closes the door, Namtan lets out a sigh and faces the four kids, her godchildren. “Let us just all wait until both of your fathers are here, okay?”

All of them nods their head except for Win who is stubbornly glaring at the wall.

Minutes later, the door opens again. This time it’s a man in his 50s who strides in, a serious and worried expression plastered on his face.

“Hey, Namtan,” he proceeds to greet the lady with a small nod and crease on his forehead. He stares at his sons, disbelieving his elder son’s red and puffy eyes, and his youngest’s bruised up face. “I immediately drove here when I received your text, Nam, what happened to my sons?”

“That is what I’m trying to find out, Off,” she answers the elder as she motions for the empty chair besides Win. “Take a seat. We’re just waiting for Gun.”

“Gun? Why do we have to wait for him?” Off asks in confusion, heart immediately jumping at the mention of _that_ name.

Namtan silently gestures toward Mew and Bright’s direction to answer her friend.

Before Off can react, another knock is heard and reveals Love again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to escort you here, Uncle Off.”

Off smiles at the young lady and waves his hand on the air. “Nonsense, I’m strong as a bull. See? I got here using the stairs.”

“No, Uncle, I saw you take the elevator,” Love jests back to the older which both of them laughs at.

“Did something happen, Love?” Namtan asks her daughter.

“Nothing, Mom. I just saw Uncle Gun in a cab? I thought he needed help and I’m glad I approached him. His nurse is not with him? His wheelchair is kinda heavy so I went up back here to ask for help.”

With what Love just said, Mew suddenly stands up and strides straight to Love. “A cab? His nurse is not around?”

When Love nods her head, Mew frantically excuses himself as silence fall inside the Discipline office. Love follows Mew, pointing him to the direction where she left Uncle Gun.

Bright bites his lips, suddenly feeling more guilty that their father has to rushed in their university in such condition.

_ Bright Cyrus, you are such a big disappointment. _

And when Mew re-appeared inside the office while slowly pushing their Dad’s wheelchair, Bright cannot help but shed some hot tears.

Because, as always, whatever Bright gets himself into, Gun Oliver Bernardo, will only give him his best reassuring fatherly smile.

“Ah, love, what happened to your handsome face, hmm? Let’s treat that after this, sounds good?”

Sunshine befalls the cold four corners of the Discipline office after that. The freezing cold breeze that the brand-new air-conditioning unit is blowing is rendered useless as Gun wheels himself towards his youngest’s side, gently cradling his face on his small, wrinkly hands.

_ Warm,  _ Bright feels warm.

And as his lips breaks in a small smile for his father, he failed to notice someone’s seething anger as that someone watches a pair of soft eyes stares at the man in the wheelchair.

_ Pathetic. _


	2. his saving grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: mentions of implied suicidal thoughts.

**_ December 27, 2000 _ **

**__ **

_ Silent Night, _

_ O, Holy Night. _

_ All is calm, _

_ All is bright. _

_ Round yon Virgin Mother and Child, _

_ Holy infant so tender and mild. _

__

Gun chuckles bitterly as he hears that Christmas song softly playing outside his hospital room. How ironic that the song speaks of calmness and brightness in such a festive season but he feels anything but such while he stares out his hospital window where he can see the blinding Christmas lights adorning the building across the streets.

It’s two days after Christmas and he feels anything but festive.

Outside the hospital building he’s in, Gun is sure that Christmas carols fill the air while everyone is still probably celebrating with their families inside the safety of their homes.

Everyone is happy.

Everyone celebrates with big smiles on their faces—probably starting a new life while he’s here… wanting, wishing, to end everything right there and then.

The heavy mobile phone on his hands _dings!_ loudly, notifying him that he received a text message.

It is from Mook, his older sister.

**_ merry after xmas, lil bro! tay n i r skipping d aftr party! W8 4 us ok? xoxo!!!!! _ **

**_ lets party in ur room, bby! _ **

Gun sighs tiredly before typing out his reply.

**_ wat 4? U chose 2 b there y care now im fyn on my own mook _ **

Gun deletes it and throws his mobile phone on the foot of his bed. Frustrated with himself, he thumps his head on his uncomfortable hospital pillow and covers his eyes as he feels hot, and angry tears pour out of his eyes.

_ Stop crying, you fucking fool. Nothing will change. You cannot act any longer with your condition, Gun Oliver. You did this to yourself, what are you crying for? _

A dry laugh escapes his lips as tears continue to spill from his eyes.

Gun Oliver Bernardo, an actor who is on the peak of his career at 32, lost his ability to walk after a stupid car accident two weeks ago. 

Doctors told him it’s a miracle he survived.

Gun wished he has not.

Because… what for?

Who wants to hire an invalid actor for a main role? Or even an extra?

_ A miracle, huh? _

_ This is a punishment. _

Why does this world always take away everything he wants for himself?

“Good evening, Mr. Bernardo! Time for your medicines,” the male nurse cheerfully says as he enters his room.

Gun immediately wipes away his tears while the nurse approaches his bed. He turns his head away from the person and sniffs quietly. He doesn’t want other people see him cry even when it’s what he does for a living.

_ Correction,  _ he angrily reminds himself. _Did. You’re no longer an actor, Gun._

“Hello, Mr. Bernardo. Lovely night, isn’t it?” the nurse says, trying to create a light atmosphere inside the room. “Are your siblings coming over?”

Gun sighs for the umpteenth time that night.

“Later,” he answers politely.

“That’s great, then. I hope I can spend this day with my family, too, but duty calls. I have to be here,” the nurse continues to chitchat eagerly. “Anyway, how are you feeling tonight? Do you feel any pain?”

“No.” _Yes. Everything’s painful._

“Feeling bored?”

He just shrugs his shoulders and quietly hopes for the nurse to finish whatever it is that he has to do. He wants to be alone.

“Do you want me to wheel you around the facility?”

Gun’s head snaps up to look at his nurse. There’s a smile and kind glint in his eyes as he injects medicine in his IV. Gun can’t help but grimace as he feels the strong medicine pass through his veins.

“Can I do that?” Gun asks, doubtful. “Can I get out of this room?”

The nurse, Joss if he remembers it correctly, raises an eyebrow playfully. “Of course, Sir. You are a patient here. Not a prisoner.”

Gun contemplates for a while, glancing out the window as if it can help him decide.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Joss guides him to his wheelchair; a bitter reminder of what Gun has lost. The heavy equipment is like an axe to Gun’s heart, killing him over and over again.

He grips the armchairs hard as Nurse Joss wheels him out of his room, gritting his teeth as he can’t feel his legs that were once agile.

“You know that this can be fixed by therapy, right?” Nurse Joss says as he strolls him around the hospital hall, the glass windows giving Gun a wider view of the festive streets outside.

Gun purses his lips. _Even therapy doesn’t guarantee that I can normally walk again. That’s what the doctors said._ “What for?”

“I have this feeling that you don’t want to be stuck in this wheelchair forever.”

“Are nurses naturally nosy?” Gun snaps, annoyance laced on his voice.

“Nah. Just a concerned fan, Mr. Bernardo,” Nurse Joss casually answers. 

That renders Gun speechless.

He lets Nurse Joss wheel him around aimlessly. None of them speak after their last exchange. Gun feels guilty. He’s annoyed that he feels guilty. He’s angry that he can still think of other people’s feelings in his situation.

_ Damn it, Gun. Pick a struggle. _

“Mr. Bernardo—”

“Gun.”

“Huh?”

“Mr. Bernardo makes me feel old. Just call me ‘Gun’ or ‘Oliver,’” he says in a low voice, his shoulders slumping forward.

“Cool. I get to call my idol by his name,” Joss happily quips. “So, Gun, do you want to go to the hospital garden?”

“Too many people.”

“All right, let me wheel you around the hospital wards instead?”

“Why there?” Gun asks, forehead creases in confusion. As far as he knows, the hospital wards are on the first floor. They are in the top floor where VIP rooms are.

Joss laughs uncertainly. “I have to turnover some of my charts to the nurse’s station there. Or do you want to go back to your room now?”

Gun shakes his head. “Let’s go down.”

They hail the elevator going down the wards. Maybe because it’s already almost ten in the evening, the elevator ride down is not interrupted that’s why they reached the first floor pretty fast.

As Joss wheels him to the nurse’s station, Gun lets his eyes wander around and notices the few people staying in the hospital lobby give him curious glances.

Gun quickly avoids their stares and shrinks back to his wheelchair.

While Joss talks with the other nurses on the nurse’s station, Gun maneuvers his wheelchair away from the view of the strangers.

He may be an actor but he doesn’t appreciate people giving him pitiful stares.

Gun doesn’t need that.

Pity is the last thing he needs right now.

_ God, can this be all over yet? I fucking hate it here. I absolutely hate it here. _

As Gun beats himself up over his scornful condition, he notices a female nurse rushing out of the wards by the end of the hall.

“Oh my God!” the nurse breathlessly blurts out as soon as she stops in front of the nurse’s station. “Guys! Shit! Have you seen the young woman who just gave birth this morning?!”

“Who?” Joss asks, confused as to what his co-worker is talking about. “Catch your breath, will you? Who are you talking about?”

“That young woman! The one who just gave birth earlier this morning! She’s missing! The only one left on her bed is the two-year old boy she came with yesterday!”

Like a bomb dropping without its safety pin, what the lady nurse said cause everyone to panic. One nurse frantically runs to the stationed guard while some of the other nurses runs to the end of the hall where the first nurse came from.

Joss stays with Gun who is now wheeling him back to the elevators.

“I’m sorry, Gun. I need to help down here. I’ll have to bring you back to your room, okay?”

“What is happening?”

“Seems like another case of an abandoned newly born infant.”

“That’s awful. She says something about a two-year old boy.”

“That makes it worse.”

Gun pulled on the brake of his wheelchair even before they reach the elevators. His heart is thumping heavily on his chest, his mind can’t wrap it around his brain that a mother can leave her newly born child and a two-year old boy in a hospital. 

Alone. Defenseless.

_ Gun Oliver, what are you thinking? _

“Can I see them?” Gun asks Joss who is now looking at him quite confused.

“You are not needed there, Gun,” Joss mumbles not unkindly. 

“I know but… can you… can you take me there?”

Joss thinks about it for a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat before wheeling him towards the end of the corridor where onlookers have already gathered outside the ward who are creating quite a ruckus.

“Excuse me, everyone. If you can please clear the doorway,” Joss announces in a loud voice with a hint of underlying anger. “Nothing to see here, please go. This is a hospital; you are all disturbing other patients.”

The onlookers immediately scurry away with Joss’ deep and loud voice but not before throwing Gun another wave of curious stares.

Gun pays them no attention as his sight immediately sought the hospital bed that’s surrounded with agitated nurses and some security guards.

“Did no one really see if the mother stepped out of the hospital? Goodness! This is giving me headache!” an older nurse exclaims angrily. “So many people in this hospital and none of you saw that one girl! Do you know how much of a hassle this will cause us, huh?”

Gun’s grip on his armchair tightens again for a different reason.

“Then resign,” Gun declares with steel in his voice as he gestures for a shocked Joss to wheel him close to the hospital bed.

“M-Mr. Bernardo,” the old nurse stutters as she sees him approaching them. The guards who recognize him bows their head in greeting but Gun ignores them. “W-what d-do you mean?”

“I meant what I just said. If you think this is just _‘so much of a hassle’_ then quit. I can’t believe none of you actually cared about the abandoned kids and just thought how this is just another case of an additional paperwork,” he said with a voice that can freeze over even the hottest dessert.

The old nurse is about to say something when the guard beside her whispered something on his ears that washed out all the colors on her face.

“Get out while I’m still being nice,” he says. “All of you, leave this ward. Take care of the other patients who got disturbed.”

All of them except for Joss races out of that ward and when they finally did, Gun is greeted with a little boy slouching over a really small creature on the bed.

_ God, are You really this cruel? _

Gun lets go of his grip on the armchairs and wheels himself slowly in front of the two. 

“Hello,” he gently greets the older of the two boys, trying his very best not to cry in front of them. _This is awfully cruel._ “What’s your name.”

“ _Bwayt, Bwayt,_ ” the two-year old boy answers, his words totally incomprehensible.

“Your name is… _Bright_?” Gun patiently asks again trying his best not to reach out and hold the kid. It might scare or, worst, traumatize him.

“Noooo,” the child draws out, saliva bubbling on his lips as he points the infant whose face is now scrunching as if he’s about to cry. “ _Bwayt… Bwayt is hungwiiii._ ”

“Oh, God,” Gun mutters as he helplessly looks over to Joss who is just watching them. “The baby’s name is ‘Bright’?”

Joss carefully walks over the kids and reads the tag on the baby’s wrist. “This champ’s name is indeed ‘Bright.’ You’re a smart one, buddy. What is your name?”

Joss ruffles the boy’s head with a friendly smile on his face. “ _Myu! Myu! Bwayt’s hungwiiii. Myu hungwy, too!_ ”

_ Myu... Mew? _

Gun wheels himself closely to the two and offers Mew his hand.

“Hey, b-bud?” he softly whispers as he looks straight in the little boy’s eyes. Mew gazes at him, wide eyes curious as plays with the saliva dropping down the side of his mouth. “Do you want to play with me?”

“ _Pway?_ ” Mew’s eyes lands on his wheelchair. “Big toy! Car!”

And for the first time since forever, Gun lets out a genuine laugh as he reaches for Mew’s small body to place the kid on his lap. The kid’s small hands immediately grip one of the armchairs as he makes _vroom! Vroom!_ sounds that send warm feelings to his heart.

Gun’s eyes seek for Bright who seems to not care about his surroundings. His free hand, the one that’s not securing Mew’s body to prevent him from tipping over, reaches for baby Bright’s small one, gently caressing the soft skin with the tip of his fingers as he is afraid to inflict him pain.

Mew and Bright.

Who would have thought that these two little strangers will be Gun’s saving grace?


End file.
